Collateral
by LunaKat17
Summary: There's a reason he never returned to Unova.
1. Amnesia

_This started as a one-shot but now it's hella long. I wrote this nonstop for two days, and now it's almost twenty-thousand words long. I've divided it into three parts to make it easier to read._

 _This is extremely canon-divergent and was written in the wake of learning about Fallers in SuMo, and because I have an unhealthy obsession with Gen V, I immediately linked it back to BW. This is just a theory and very much not canon._

* * *

You open your eyes and you don't know where you are.

Everything is dark. You can't see. You smell water, thick with the scent of minerals. The air is dank and moist, but stale. You taste stone and sand on your tongue. It takes you a fraction of a second to take these clues and deduce that you are in the cave of some sort.

All around you, there is darkness, and it takes several blinks for your eyes to adjust to the sight of stalagmites and stalactites that jut out like bestial fangs. You pick up the sound of running water and focus on it—a waterfall, it sounds like. Yes, that's it. You can feel the mist spraying finely on your plumage.

You don't know where you are, or how you came here. Your claws scrape stone as you try to right yourself. You feel...whoozy, for lack of a better term. Slightly nauseated. You feel like you went through a whirlpool or a vortex of some kind, the way your vision spins a little and the way your balance is slightly off. You haven't felt this off-kilter since the split.

Something's off, though. You can't quite put your claw on it. Your mind is foggy, sluggish, and you're trying to determine what it is that's needling at you as you take stock of your surroundings. You stand on a patch of rocky earth that leads to a hole in the wall that spills light, so you determine that is the exit (although it is too small for you to hope to fit through, it looks to be the size of a human). All around you, there is water, casting ripples of light onto the ground and eroded walls. You are alone—

Wait.

No.

That's not right.

You shouldn't be alone. You were— You were with someone. A human—

Your Hero.

Where is your Hero?

You look around again and let out a soft, crooning noise. The only response you get is an echo off the walls and the thrumming of the waterfall from behind you.

You taste the air. His scent is absent. He is not here. This does not make sense to you. He was _with_ you. He was riding on your back—

Wait.

How did you get here?

You struggle to remember. The last thing you recall is the sky, the wind in your feathers and the voice of your Hero giving you directions.

The color blue comes to mind, bright and electric, but it's not Zekrom's lightning that you think of. No, there was a... a crack? That is the best description you can think of for the phenomenon you witnessed.

You remember that it made you feel off-balance, and sent a bone-deep, primal sort of fear through you, but you don't remember why.

What was it? Where did it go?

How did you get here? Where is your Hero?

Footsteps echo through the cave and a human scent floods your tongue. You turn, hopeful, but you know immediately that it is not your Hero—the scent is wrong, for one thing. And when you peer at the entrance, you see a female human walking through, not a male. She stops at the sight of you, her eyes widening, admiring your physique with the sort of awe that humans save for legends and demigods like yourself, the way your Hero once looked at you the first time you leaped out of the stone in his hands.

But this is not your Hero, and this angers you.

You spit fire at the intruder. She shrieks, dodges, and your attack leaves black marks on the stone floor. She tries to say something in a soothing tone, but you won't have it. She's not your Hero. You need to find your Hero.

You attack again. Again, she dodges, and the water steams where the attack hit.

After a fraction of a moment of hesitation, she pulls a determined face that is a mocking mimicry of your Hero and only serves to infuriate you further. She grabs a vaguely familiar red-and-white sphere from her belt, and throws it.

.

.

.

Cold. That's the first thing Touya registers. Cold—deep cold. The kind that seeps into your bones and makes your joints stiffen, that makes your nose run and your whole body break out into shivers. His fingers curl. His hands are numb. His face is numb. _Everything_ is numb.

He forces his eyes open. Something had crusted over his eyelids, but it crumbles easily. He winces when frigid air blasts his eyes and he screws them shut again. He's so _cold_. His body shudders, and he curls his extremities inward, assumes a fetal position, in order to preserve whatever scraps of body heat he still has left.

He opens his eyes again, squinting. White pierces his corneas—a deep, blinding white, vast and unending. He pulls a frown. Weird. The last thing he remembers—

The last thing he remembers—

Oh.

Oh god.

There's—

There's nothing _there_.

.

.

.

He's found by a ranger who was passing by, as luck would have it. The ranger has a Flareon on her and brings it out immediately. Touya hugs the Fire-Type and gasps at the flood of warmth—he's forgotten what warmth _felt_ like, but _ohhhhh_ , he could get used to this. The ranger helps him shakily to his feet and takes him back to town.

It occurs to him, as he sits in the lobby of what the ranger called a "Pokémon Center" with a mug of too-sweet hot cocoa in his hands and a thermal blanket draped over his shoulders in a vain attempt to make him stop shivering, that this is _snow_. That's the word for the little white flakes pouring down from the heavens. Snowfall. Blizzard.

Concepts slowly begins to connect in his mind: Pokémon Centers are hospitals for Pokémon and rest stops for their Trainers, snow is cold and wintertime-exclusive so it must be winter right now, and Touya—

He almost died.

For some reason, that thought doesn't alarm him as much as he thinks it should. And he knows it should alarm him a great deal. Instead, though, there's nothing beyond a dull sensation of shock. He wonders why that is. If he's maybe comfortable with death, or if he's grown numb to the thought of dying. Either way, it's concerning.

The nurse comes and tells him that she's rounded up some fresh clothes for him, which aren't wet and half-frozen to his skin like his current ensemble is. He reluctantly accepts, and lets her guide him to a room where she insists he stay for the night, Trainer or no.

As he changes out of his soaking jacket and jeans, Touya notices some things in the pockets. Poké Ball, his mind tells him, is the name for those little red and white balls with the black band in the center. He finds some empty, shrunken-down ones, and he finds what looks to be shards of more. Probably from failed captures, he deduces.

But he can't, for the life of him, find any Balls with anything in them. He doesn't have _any_ Pokémon on him. He finds a half-empty Potion, an expired Repel, and beaten-looking Revive. These are Trainer things. But he has no Pokémon, and you can't be a trainer without Pokémon.

 _What happened to me?_

The nurse comes in after he's done changing and asks him if he wants to call anyone. He doesn't answer immediately, because he doesn't know what to say to that.

Behind her, Touya catches a glimpse of a mirror—a tall one, mounted on the wall. In it are two figures. One is the nurse, and the other is someone he doesn't recognize. A boy, maybe eighteen or younger, with messy brown hair and brown eyes who looks like he hasn't seen the sun in an honest-to-god long time.

He blinks, and the boy blinks with him.

No. No, that's not right.

Touya raises a hand and touches his cheek. The reflection mirrors him. It is absolutely chilling when he realizes it's _his_ face that's staring back at him, and there's not even an iota of recognition. He might as well be looking at a stranger. But he's _not_ because that face is _his_ , it's meant to be _his_ , and he doesn't _remember_ —

A sob is building in his throat. The boy in the mirror is crying.

"Sir?" The nurse is both worried and concerned. "Sir, do you still want me to call someone?"

"I don't know," he mumbles. Even his own voice is a stranger now. "I don't know, I don't _remember_ —I don't r-remember _anything_ —"

Something wary crosses her face, but she tries to hide it as she places a comforting hand on his shoulder. She tells him to calm down, wait here—she knows exactly who to call.

She leaves too quickly, and then Touya is alone in this rented room, the void in his memory threatening to eat him alive.

.

.

.

A psychic "specialist" is brought in to examine Touya. She's an aging woman with hair in a graying bob and lines on her face that indicate she's been frowning all her life, and she has dark eyes that rove Touya with great distrust.

"The last thing I need is a psychic, lady," he protests when the specialist leads him to a room that very much reminds him of an interrogation room in a police station. He takes a minute to wonder how he knows that, and if it should worry him.

"It should," the psychic says stiffly, seating herself on the other side of the table. Fucking mind-readers. "You see—Touya, was it?" She doesn't wait for him to respond. "You were found off the shore of Lake Acuity. Do you know what that means?"

He shakes his head dumbly. He probably didn't have to, but he doesn't want this all to be her reading his mind and invading his privacy.

"Well, here in Snowpoint City— _yes_ , that is what this place is called—there is a legend about a guardian who lives in the lake," she explains. Her face is incredibly serious, borderline bleak. "The guardian is very secretive, but very powerful. In the past, wicked men and women have ventured to the lake in order to capture it and gain its gift of wisdom. In retaliation, the guardian takes their memories."

A chill runs through Touya. He places his hands flat on the plastic surface of the table and looks down at them. The nurse said he was lucky to walk away from his near-death encounter of the hypothermic kind without any frostbite. Apparently, he'd only been there for a few minutes, and he'd only lost heat so quickly because of the fact that his clothes weren't made for that sort of cold.

But... that meant he _couldn't_ have gotten to the lake on foot. Right? He would have keeled over dead or lost his hands or something if that had been the case.

"So." He swallows, allows his fingers to curl. How easily he could have lost one. "You think this guardian attacked me... because I was trying to hurt it?"

If this guardian was a Pokémon, it would account for the Ball shards... evidence of failed capture attempts.

"That's what I'm here to determine." The woman steeples her hands and looks down her nose at him without a trace of sympathy. "There are many reasons for amnesia, but in most cases, the memories are still accessible, simply hidden or repressed. The guardian, Uxie, creates a mental barrier to suppress memories that's so strong, even more highly-trained and skillful psychics like myself can't crack it. If Uxie has punished you, I'll hit a barrier right away, and then we'll know."

"But..." He furrows his brows. "Isn't this thing a legend? Like, a myth or a bedtime story? There's way it's—it's real, right?"

She snorts, and he almost thinks she sounds amused. "We can definitely rule you out as being from Sinnoh. Now, close your eyes, relax your mind, and try not to fight me too much. I won't lie—this is not going to be an entirely pleasant experience."

.

.

.

 **Let's begin now. What's your name?**

 _Touya. Touya... that's it. I can't remember a last name._

 **Is there anything else you can remember?**

 _Um... No, I don't think—wait. There's... a dragon._

 **A dragon?**

 _Yeah._

 **Alright. Focus on that dragon.**

 _Okay..._

 **Describe it to me.**

 _It's...white. Big. Kinda...feminine, I guess? It has blue eyes, and it breathes fire._

 **Anything else?**

 _...not that I can remember, no._

 **Interesting. Is there anything else you _can_ remember?**

 _I... I think I was..._

 **Go on.**

 _I think I was... looking for someone?_

 **Who?**

 _I don't... I don't know. I don't remember. But I know I was looking for them._

 **Any defining features?**

 _...no. No, I can't remember. I just know I was looking for them. I don't know why, or who they were. I just know I really wanted to find them._

 **I'm sensing some emotional attachment. Whoever this person was, you were clearly close.**

 _I still don't remember._

 **What about where you're from?**

 _...someplace._

 **How specific. Think harder.**

 _I don't know! I don't remember, okay? I mean, it wasn't, like, tropical or cold or anything. It was just..._

 **Temperate?**

 _Sure. Let's go with that. But that's all I remember._

 **Huh... Well, I'm not feeling a barrier, so it's likely you weren't Uxie's victim.**

 _Uh. That's good, right?_

 **Unfortunately, that means we don't know how you ended up like this. I'm going a little deeper. Try not squirm too much.**

 _Ack—! T-That's kinda... Ohhhh, that feels weird...! D-Don't—_

 **This is going to be uncomfortable. Endure it.**

 _Ngh..._

 **Your mind is surprisingly vacant.**

 _I feel like that was an insul— Guh!_

 **Hold on... I'm getting something—**

.

.

.

 _It looks like a coral reef had rough sex with the swamp on Degobah and the baby was sent to grow up in outer space. Spires of coral-like growths enclose the area, and strange, phosphorescent lights flicker randomly in the air with seemingly no source._

 _The air is cold and heavy, like it's been compacted, and it makes your lungs protest with every breath. Your eyes send signals to your visual cortex that your brain just doesn't have the capacity to comprehend. There isn't enough light to see, yet somehow your eyes adjust. It's dark and gloomy but the gloom is icily clear and defined, as though you were wearing night vision goggles or something. Except you're not, because there's color—subtle, glowing colors, icy and delicate and ethereal._

 _Something's wrong. This place— **feels** wrong. You don't know what it is, but you feel like you don't belong here. Every atom of your body protests against this place. Your balance is screwed up, your sense of direction thrown off-kilter, and you want to get out. Everything in you is screaming to **get out**. It's beautiful, yes, but in a savage, terrifying sort of way that inspires a visceral sort of fear in you. You get the feeling you are a rabbit who has wandered into a den of wolves._

 _You're not totally sure how you got here. A crack—that sounds weird, but that's how you remember it. Sort of. It's fuzzy, blurry and blotted out by your current predicament and the panic rising inside you._

 _It's gone now. You look around, but the entrance and possible exit is gone, like it was never there. Your stomach sinks to your toes._

 _You're trapped._

.

.

.

Touya snaps his eyes open as he feels the psychic pull out—a little hastily, he'd like to add. His skull burns and he feels... violated. _Extremely_ violated. He groans and places a hand on his temple, squeezing his eyes shut. The lights are too bright.

"What in the good name of Arceus was _that_?" demands the psychic, her voice a little too loud.

Touya lets out another groan and massages his temples. The blackness behind his eyelids pulses. "You don't _know_? I thought you were supposed to be, like, an expert into the human subconscious or whatever."

"I've never seen anything like that," she retorts. He can't see her face through his eyelids, but he pictures her sneering. "I don't even know if that was a memory, a dreamscape, or some manifestation of a twisted psyche."

"Wow. Thanks."

"You need help," she says bluntly. He hears her chair slide back as she stands.

 _I could've told you that_ , he thinks bitterly. His head throbs. This is the last time he lets a psychic into his head.

"I mean it, kid. Your memories—they're not suppressed, they're _gone_. As in, _not there_." She pauses, then, softer, breathier, "I don't even know how that's _possible_. Even the strongest psychics like Uxie can only create powerful mental barriers to _suppress_. But to _literally rip the memories_ out of someone's subconscious... I've never..."

He opens his eyes again just in time to see her leave, slamming the door behind her.

.

.

.

You honestly missed Hoenn.

Not that Kalos isn't great or anything—it is fucking drop-dead _gorgeous_ , from the food to the people to the cities, it's like region was _raised_ on beauty—but Hoenn is your birthplace. You've been raised on the muggy, seaside heat and the feel of sand between your toes and waves lapping at your shins. The taste of seafood rests pleasantly on your tongue, you can't eat anything without a liberal application of salt, and you are all too accustomed to loose clothing that shows a little skin. You'd think you'd like Alola for those reasons, and you would love to visit the archipelago sometime, because you here it is just as idyllic as Kalos.

"Focus, Serena," says Calem. He looks very out of place (though not _bad_ ) in faded polo and shorts, and fans himself with a brochure he picked up at the harbor. Pretty boy raised on fancy silks and cashmere, you think with a wicked grin. You'll have to take the lead on this one. "We can't afford to get distracted."

"Aw, we can't even visit the Space Center?" you tease. Calem is generous and gracious, the perfect gentlemen, but with that comes an unflattering seriousness. There are times when you think, frankly, he could do to lose the stick up his ass.

He gives you a withering look.

You play coy. "What's wrong with the Space Center?"

When his expression does not change, you pout in that incredibly cute way only you can pull off and grab his arm. "It's airconditioned," you singsong enticingly. You know he's suffocating in this heat. He must be. Kalos is significantly cooler than Hoenn, on account of the northern geography.

He slips out of your grasp. "We're not here for fun, y'know."

You do. Professor Sycamore has heard stuff in the scientific community about strange phenomena he thinks are connected with Kalos's legends. See, according to Malva (most reliable source ever, really), Flare captured the other legends first—i.e. Zygarde, Hoopa, Volcanion—and had them shipped out of the region so they wouldn't interfere in the whole capturing-Yveltal-and-nuking-the-world thing. Which actually shows some forethought on Lysandre's part, really. Malva claims that she was one of the leads on that project, and the reason you never faced all Team Flare's scientists (Mable, Aliana, you kinda forget the rest) all at once until their endgame is because they were overseas or dealing with those legends. Hell, some excavating of their underground lab in Geosenge revealed that they'd cryogenically frozen Xerneas so it wouldn't interfere, and then probably wake it up later to immortalize everyone. Wowzers.

The point is, now there are legends out running amok in other regions, and they're really pissed—at humans in particular. Sina and Dexio left for Alola to hunt down Zygarde and its "cells" or whatever (and traversing the archipelago in the process, lucky bastards), while Shauna, Tierno, and Trevor are somewhere near Lavaridge Town checking out rumors of Volcanion. You and Calem are on Hoopa duty, investigating all the sightings of "mysterious rings" that're popping up everywhere and spitting out random legends. You're in Mossdeep now because you've got a lead.

"Right, right," you say with an eyeroll. "C'mon then—I wanna meet my heroes!"

Like any girl from Hoenn, you grew up admiring May Senri, Champion of Hoenn, and wanting to be like her. Hell, how could you not? This was the girl who brought the world back from the cusp, who calmed a sun that burned so fiercely that the earth cracked and bled magma and the seas boiled, shrinking, leaving a salty crust on the shores as towns nearly burnt to a crisp. The girl who made friends with the guardian of the skies and stopped an errant meteor from bringing about armageddon. You once thought it was the coolest thing in the world, taming gods. Now you just shrug, like, whatevz man.

May and her (coughcoughboyfriendcoughcough) companion, Brendan Birch (son of the esteemed but rumored quirky Professor Ivan Birch), are the ones who contacted you. May has apparently been conducting some investigations of her own. Hell, the reason Hoenn isn't currently overrun with disgruntled and panicking legends having been dropped on foreign soil is because the Champion herself rounded them all up. Wicked cool, you think. Those legends are currently in the care of the aforementioned Brendan Birch, here at a private facility he owns.

Which Calem knocks on the door of. You squeal internally. They say don't meet your heroes, but, _c'mon_. It's _May fucking Senri_. You are a huge fan. You should not be judged.

The door opens and there stands a woman whose likeness you have seen on TV since you were a little girl. She doesn't look as wild or as badass as she did in the commercials—brown hair combed back neatly, donning a loose blouse and a flowy skirt—but it's definitely May Senri. You're almost disappointed that she's not wearing her usual Champion ensemble, and that she smiles and politely invites you in once you introduce yourselves instead of saying something inspiring, but you remind yourself that looks are deceiving. You look like a Barbie doll yourself, but you can out-cuss a sailor.

May leads you down a chilly hallway (Calem revels in the airconditioning, you notice) while explaining how she was flying on her Latios (Latios! you suppress a fangirl shriek) when she noticed something glittering on an island or whatever, so she went to investigate and ended up finding a golden hoop, just, floating at the back of this cave. Weird as hell, y'know? So she gets closer, and then this pinkish thing tumbles out—"Mesprit," May explains, "according to my PokéDex."—which is all the way from Sinnoh. Azelf and Uxie, Mesprit's legendary companions, tumbled out a little while later. Sinnoh's Champion, Dawn Everette, already picked them up and took them home.

"But there are others, too," May says as she leads the two of you into an area that reminds you of Sycamore's lab back in Lumiose. There's a big glass window, and a brown-haired man stands, hands in the pockets of his lab coat, observing. "I've contacted the Unova Champion, but I'm still waiting for a response. Brendan—we have company."

Brendan jumps and turns, them immediately smiles sheepishly, scratching the side of his head. "Whoops. Eheh, sorry 'bout that, folks. I was just..." He trails off.

"I know." May sighs and turns to the glass. "I'm worried about it, too."

Beyond the glass is a giant room, at least two thousand square feet and twenty feet tall. And "it" is a big honking white dragon with feathers and wispy, smoke-looking horns that's curled up in the middle, looking rather despondent. Something in the expression of its lurid blue eyes makes your heart ache a little.

"Whoa," Calem says. You both approach the glass, and he peers at the beast with unmitigated awe, while you place a hand on the glass. "What is that?"

"Reshiram," you say before May can respond.

Brendan turns to you in alarm. "You know it?"

"Kinda," you admit, flashing back to the fireworks with Shauna at Parfum Palace, and chasing a rowdy Furfrou before then. "There were these big statues of Reshiram and its counterpart, Zekrom, in the garden of Parfum Palace. They were fucking _huge_ , man. I mean, practically life-sized, judging by..." You gesture awkwardly to Reshiram. "Anyway, Reshiram is like, the Dragon of Truth, and Zekrom is the Dragon of Ideals or some shit like that. I did some research on them later."

Calem arches a brow at you.

"I was _curious_ , okay? Fuck off pretty boy."

He turns away and says nothing. Pompous bishie.

"Counterpart..." Brendan's mouth presses into a thin line. "Are they counterparts in that they want to kill each other like Kyogre and Groudon, or counterparts in that they're inseparable like Latias and Latios?"

"Uh..." You are not an expert. You just read a book in a library. "Kinda both, maybe? I read they were, like, the same thing before and then humans split 'em up."

Yeah. You remember that part. Wars, beliefs, the great guardian of the land splitting into two beings because it thought neither was particularly right or wrong. And they stopped just in time, only for their kids to destroy the region. Bunch of idiots in your opinion. It sounded like the only thing those Dragons knew was loyalty to their human masters, so they obeyed regardless of what they wanted. Kinda sad, really.

A thought strikes you and you turn to May. "Wait—did you find it alone?"

She nods. "Yeah. In Fabled Cave. Why?"

"Well—I mean, I read they, Reshiram and Zekrom, were put into a three-thousand-year sleep or whatever." Around the same timeline as the Kalos War, which is why that particular detail stuck with you. "And they'd only wake up if they found a hero worthy of championing their beliefs."

May's brows furrow. "Like... a Trainer?"

"Kinda?" Your mind keeps turning, remembering the text. "And... apparently they're super fucking protective of their hero. Like, mother-and-child protective."

"That could account for the aggression it displayed when you found it, May," Brendan says. "And now the despondence—it's missing its Trainer."

Calem nods sagely. "I've seen Kangaskhan get like this after their babies have grown up. They grow rather depressed."

You file that away in two sections of your memory: one) useful things that pertain to this, and two) things to wonder about later because how the hell do Kangaskhan even reproduce in the first place? "So it misses its Trainer that it loves like a kid. Great. Now all we gotta do is find the Trainer, yeah?"

"I'll see if I can get in contact with Unova again," May announces, turning around to go and do just that.

You keep watching Reshiram through the glass—it hardly moves.

.

.

.

Touya's been here for about a week (he feels like he's imposing, the nurse insists otherwise) when he's brought back to the room where the psychic interviewed him. This time, a pale man with dark hair, a blue suit, and stylized blue fedora joins him. He has a pleasant smile, but icy blue eyes that glint with something uneasy.

"Hello," says the man pleasantly, but something is off. Something has made him nervous or wary. And Touya hasn't done anything other than sit down. Maybe the man, like quite of the few townsfolk, still believe Touya's a victim of this Uxie figure, despite the fact that the psychic proved otherwise. "My name is Riley. You're Touya, yes?"

"Yeah."

Riley arches a brow. "Say that again?"

"What—'yeah'?"

"Huh." Riley regards Touya curiously. "When I heard your name, I thought you might be Kantonian. But your pronunciation... sounds more like Unovan."

"I'm pretty sure I'm from Unova," Touya admits.

Riley looks pleasantly surprised. "Oh? How do you figure that?"

"Uh... the accent?" Everyone he meets—the nurse, the ranger who helped him, the people who turned him into a charity case and gave him gift baskets—tells him he has a Unovan accent. It does fit the description of a temperate climate, too. And the psychic later told him that he possesses a "Unovan disrespect for old legends" or something like that. "And apparently I'm 'blasphemous'."

To Touya's surprise, Riley chuckles. "Well, here in Sinnoh, we do tend to take our religion a little more seriously than they do in the west, so I can get that."

Touya eyes Riley skeptically. "...are you a psychic?"

"No—I mean, I read auras, but I think that's more a me thing than a psychic thing." Riley pauses, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully. "I'm not sure, honestly, if that's classified as a psychic ability. I never really did any research."

Touya is starting to get uncomfortable. "Um, sir?"

Riley chuckles. "Please, don't call me 'sir'. I'm not _that_ old."

"Okay." Touya plucks at the borrowed jeans he's wearing. They're a little loose on him, and they're old and worn, but his own clothing is sticky with something black and yucky-looking that the nurse thinks might be poisonous, even though he's fine—total anterograde amnesia aside. Maybe a chemical destroyed his memory? The point is, he's wearing borrowed clothes. "Mr. Riley? Uh, why're you here, if you're not a psychic?"

"Well, I actually work with International Police from time to time," Riley explains. He steeples his hands, and Touya catches a glimpse of elaborate golden patterns on his black gloves. "They asked me to talk to you."

Touya briefly searches his memory, or what little memory he has, for the keywords "International Police". No, he doesn't remember getting into any trouble with the IP. Hell, he doesn't even remember if he got into trouble with the _regular_ police. Well, granted, he really doesn't remember _anything,_ so. Will they hold that against him if he's convicted of something? Wait, does he have a criminal record? Gods, he hopes not. He really, _really_ hopes not.

"Why?" he asks finally. "Did I do something?"

"What—oh, kid, no no no no. Nothing like that." Riley plasters a reassuring smile that doesn't match the tension in his shoulders. "It's more like—my...bosses think you might be able to...assist us in an ongoing investigation. If you're interested, that is."

Something makes Touya's muscles tense—something about the way Riley says "if you're interested". "Is it, like, optional?"

"It's completely voluntary, of course."

Touya feels like he shouldn't believe him, which is weird. Riley seems nice, but... "An amnesiac, helping with an investigation?"

Riley's smile softens a little. "Yeah. Guess it does sound a little unusual, huh?"

"A little," Touya agrees.

Riley sighs lightly. "Well, I've been told to offer you some assistance in regard to your... condition, if you choose to agree."

"'Assistance'?" Sounds fishy. And Touya in no way likes the way Riley's Sinnohan accent curls around the word "condition", like it's some sort of unfortunately tragedy. Which it is, probably, but Touya still doesn't like it.

"The nurse tells me you had some Trainer supplies in your possession, yes? Well, when you apply for a license, they take your fingerprints." To identify bodies, Riley doesn't say. And doesn't need to. For some reason, Touya is chillingly aware of the dangers Trainers face on a daily basis. Maybe that's why he's so numb to death. "We could take your prints and run them through the Unova League database."

Touya's heart pounds. "R-Really?"

Riley nods solemnly.

"That's—yes. I'll help. Just—" Touya's mind is racing with a dizzying hope. "If you find out who I—who I was—"

Riley smiles like crushed glass. "We'll certainly try."

.

.

.

Riley tells Touya that an agent and one of his superiors will be here soon. Riley can't specify, because the IP is either notoriously slow to respond or frighteningly quick. He is sincerely worried it will end up being the latter.

"How did it go?" asks the voice on the other end of the line, a mild Kalosian accent that Riley has come to identify with this particular agent. Guy has been in the IP for years, but he never lost that accent. That would be unthinkable for most IP agents—you're meant to be an enigma, no homeland, no loyalties, only justice and truth and all that BS. But this guy, he's an exception. There are quite a few exceptions, Riley thinks.

Like this kid, for example. Barely eighteen.

Riley feels sick.

"Terrible." Riley pinches the bridge of his nose, and not because this alley reeks of week-old garbage. "It was overwhelming, Looker. The moment I stepped into the room, I could feel it."

Faded violet, mustard yellow, and dull bronze, undulating in a sickeningly familiar pattern. Riley's seen it twice before, and twice before, it's been damning.

A heavy sigh crackles from the other line, world-weary. "So he is a Faller, then?"

"...yeah. I took his prints, but I doubt we'll find anything." If this kid really had gone through a Wormhole, then there was a high chance he didn't exist on any database. Like Riley said—he's seen it twice before.

"Alright." Riley hears something shift. "I am coming."

Riley arches a brow. "Oh? You don't think they're gonna send Anabel?"

"I will volunteer," Looker says stiffly.

"They'll probably send Anabel," Riley continues, pretending not to have heard him. Just a moment of levity, just one. "She's nicer and prettier and doesn't have wrinkles."

Looker huffs in a very old man sort of way. "Even after all these years, you are still a brat, huh?"

Riley smirks. He and Looker go way back—back to when Riley was a gawky orphan on the Iron Islands whose only family was the Riolu pack in the mountains who took him in after his folks were wiped out during the plague. Back when he'd survived by stealing and conning and putting his ability to good use, until one day he picked the wrong mark. Guy with silver hair and lurid red eyes, and his pretty lady partner, who ended up reporting Riley's abilities and dragged him back to HQ on the orders of their superiors. Where he was treated as either a common criminal or an asset until one day he met a man with a trench coat and aura pattern unlike anything he'd ever seen before, who smiled and treated him as a kid, a miniature human being instead of a statistic to help the bottom line.

Needless to say, Looker's probably the only guy in the whole fucking bureaucracy that Riley can actually trust. And it's also why Riley's a hired freelancer forced into a contract rather than an actual agent, but hey, it means he's not associated with them all the damn time.

Must be a nightmare for old Looker.

"And you're still a creaky old man," Riley teases back.

Looker just grunts. "I am not old."

"Keep telling yourself that." And then Riley hangs up and sighs.

What a world they live in.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 _I headcannon Riley as being in the IP, or at least being sort of employed by them from time to time. I mean, if there's a guy who can read auras and act as a human lie detector, you'd probably want to employ him. Also, he can detect Fallers, so..._

 _I've also always been intrigued by the fact that Reshiram/Zekrom shows up in Fabled Cave in ORAS, depending on which version you own. And that was one of the contributing factors that created this._

 _Anyway, enjoy!  
Luna_


	2. Loss

There's a knock on the door. You look up from the suitcase you're packing and frown. How peculiar. You weren't expecting anyone. You doubt anyone even knew you were here.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if it is some minion of Ghetsis—perhaps that "Shadow Triad" Champion Alder warned you of. But no, why would they knock? Such an obvious move...

To lure you into a false sense of security? Because that is exactly what you would not expect? Well, joke's on them! You are much cleverer than that.

Although, you are badly protected, possessing a weapon but lacking a partner Pokémon. How unfortunate. You slip your hand over the holster of the gun you keep in your pocket, hidden tactfully by your trench coat, and click the safety off as you open the door.

A pair of brown eyes stare back at you, then, slowly drift to your pocket. Touya frowns. "Is that a gun?"

You sigh and click the safety back on, and quickly hide the gun under your trench coat once more. "Young Touya. Pardon. Expecting you, I was not."

"I can see that," the young Champion says dryly. "And may I ask why a member of the IP is staying at a crappy motel in Nimbasa?"

You cross your arms. This boy is not your biggest fan, and you are aware of that. His cooperation in your mission has been invaluable, but you can tell he does not think too highly of you. At first, you were baffled by this attitude... but after some investigative work on your part, you think you have deduced why. "I am most frugal in my glob-trotting pursuits of criminals. Now, is there any assistance I can be of? I do doubt, quite heavily, that this is a casual appointment."

"Well, at least you're a decent detective." Touya brushes past you and makes his way over to the stiff bed you still have a sore back from sleeping in. He sets his bag down and begins pulling out three items—two are blue, one smooth and nacreous while the other is harsh and faceted, and a third that is a dull yellow, glinting waxily in the cheap motel light.

You arch a brow as he turns back to you. "'Bout half an hour ago, the Shadow Triad jump-scared me on Marvelous Bridge and dumped these on me. They said _Ghetsis_ wanted me to have them. Now, I'm _pretty sure_ these aren't bombs or anything, but I figured I'd run them by you first." He sighs and throws his bag over his shoulders. "I'm kinda glad I caught you before you left."

"Indeed. In the nick, you did." You come closer and examine the objects. They are vaguely familiar to you. "I recognize these objects—of icy Sinnoh, they are from. Artifacts, holy and ancient. Remnants of the legends, the gods who shaped the mountains and the stars."

Touya groans. "Why does it always have to be gods and demigods and old legends, huh? Why can't it for once be a good ol' fashioned government conspiracy or something?"

You raise your brows in surprise. "That would not be a thing to wish for, young Touya. In fact, that would be very, very, very not good."

"Whatever." He turns back to the orbs. "So I'm hearing that they _won't_ explode in my bag?"

"Unlikely," you say.

"Great. I'm gonna go now." Touya packs them back up, then makes a move to leave.

"Touya," you say suddenly, stepping to block his path. "Might I have some words with you?"

Touya scowls. "If I say yes, will you talk normal?"

You wince. You are not a native speaker of the common tongue. You acknowledge this—you are working on it, but your speech is still clunky and awkward to a native speaker. "I would like to speak to you on the matter of this N person I am to pursue."

Touya's expression sours further. Ah, you are right on the money, it seems. "What about him?"

"It was to my knowledge that N was the sole proprietor of the Plasma Team." Touya opens his mouth to protest, but you hold your hand up to stop him. "However, after speaking further with Champion Alder, I have deduced that this knowledge was, ah, how you say—incorrect. As a member of the International Police, it is my sworn duty to punish the true culprit, no matter what other sources say. And after some investigating, I have come to conclude that the true culprit, it is Ghetsis! Not N! And so I will, yes, continue to search for N, but rest assured! My main priority is arresting this miscreant Ghestis for his crimes."

"You..." Touya blinks and stares at you for a moment, before, finally, going, "Oh."

"Therefore, I have already collected the testimonies of Champion Alder and the bespectacled boy," you explain, placing your chin in your hand. "Though your _own_ , it would quite help justice to be delivered."

Touya looks uncertain. "My... testimony?"

"Indeed! An account of the events as seen by the one who faced both supposed leaders of this Team Plasma," you explain, planting your hands on your hips, "and thus able to judge their true intents. You, young Touya, are the best one of all to tell the story and reveal truth. With your help, the true culprit will face the consequences of their actions—and only the true culprit."

Hope flashes briefly across Touya's expression. "So, you'll let N go?"

"Ah. Actions have consequences, and it would not be professional of me, you see, to let a guilty someone go completely free," you admit apologetically. "But leniency would be awarded, based on your word as well as his. This makes sense, yes?"

"So what you're saying is, if N and I were to testify against Ghetsis—"

You nod emphatically. "The man's scapegoat will make him into a scapegoat himself. Build a case, show a man's guilty face—that is the job of one like myself! Do you accept this duty, Touya of Truth?"

Touya looks at you with something like wonder. "I... okay, yeah."

"Magnifique! Shall we start, then, on the writing of testimony?"

For the first time since you met him, you see Touya smile—it is tentative, and shaky, but it a smile nonetheless. "Sure. Let's get started."

.

.

.

Riley comes back the next day and tells Touya the search turned up nothing. There's no results of anyone with his prints in Unova.

 _Which is a boldfaced lie_ , Looker thinks as he sits on a train that runs through the mountain and will take him to the station in Snowpoint. As a "privileged" member of the IP, Looker is given a luxury cabin for the purpose of privacy. It serves him well as he pours over highly-classified documents—Touya's file is splayed out on his lap, and a smiling photo stares back at him, the memory of Unova still fresh in the agent's mind. _A boldfaced lie that the agency has to tell, or they risk him returning to Unova and losing him. Especially given who he is, and how high his profile is._

Looker groans and massages his temples. Touya is one of the unlucky ones, those who went through the Wormhole and ended up on the same end they started from. Looker has only seen it once, in a man from Alola who now cultivates Poké Beans on islands many miles away from the main islands (and nearby an IP base, so as to keep him supervised constantly). He knows how this goes. With Anabel and those few others like her, there had been nothing tying her to this world, so it was a clean break. For those like Touya—it is messy and awkward and the IP will do anything to keep him under their supervision.

Which means as far away from Unova as possible. He very much doubts the higher ups would allow the boy to return home.

It's always worse when you know the person, Looker thinks with a sigh. For example, he know that it's been around six years since he's last seen Touya, so that meant he has to be in his twenties. But Riley's description is that of a seventeen-year-old, which lines up with the theory that time moved differently in Ultra Space, in relation to this dimension.

Touya was sixteen when Looker met him. Which meant to he got stuck in Ultra Space not long after they met.

Looker wonders, briefly, if he is to blame for that. Him and this— this— damned _aura—_

It's always worse when you knew them.

.

.

.

Looker's earliest memory is that of hot sand, the sound of waves, and a burning sun. He remembers waking up, his head throbbing, and feeling very, very uneasy. Very _wrong_. Something is wrong. What is wrong?

He's hot. He's wearing a trench coat. It's sweltering, and he's wearing a trench coat? That doesn't make sense...

There's a girl, there, with brown hair in a shaggy ponytail and a pair of blue eyes. She helps him up and into a cabin she's staying at. Her voice is soothing, placating—he is frazzled, panicking because he realizes that he can't remember _anything_ , not even his _name_ —and she is trying very hard to calm him down, which says a lot because she's maybe thirteen or fourteen and she has to be the adult here. He's nauseous, flushed, not sweating, his heart is pounding, he has a headache, and he can't think straight, so he probably has heatstroke (how he knows that, he doesn't know how—medical training?). The girl brings him water and then calls a doctor, who confirms the diagnosis.

He convalesces in that cabin, forcing himself to calm down and _breathe_. Okay. He's an amnesiac recovering from heatstroke somewhere in Hoenn, according to the girl (May Senri, and he will remember her name), in a place called a "Battle Resort". He doesn't understand that—how a place that is a resort could also be a place of battle, because battling does not sound relaxing.

Not the point.

He has no idea who he is or where he's from, save for this vague sense that he has some duty he needs to accomplish. But of course, that is quite ambiguous, isn't it? The only real clue he has is the strange stone in his pocket ("A Mega Stone," May remarks with some surprise) that seems to have something to do with an Audino and his innate knowledge of the Kalosian language.

He's later approached by a member of an organization called the International Police, who offers him assistance. Reluctantly, he accepts. It can't do any harm, after all.

That was fourteen years ago.

.

.

.

You're worried that Moon is obsessed with that busted Dex she found.

You remember it very clearly—when she and Lillie dove into Ultra Space with Nebby-turned-Lunala, and you stayed back to beat back anything that came out of the portal. The last thing Alola needed was to deal with more Beasts. You weathered the role resolutely, because you knew that your sister should be the one to accompany Lillie. But after the sun set and they still weren't back, you began to worry.

Hapu joined you by sunrise on the second day, claiming she had to do her job as a Kahuna and protect her island. It wasn't until late afternoon that Moon and Lillie finally emerged with a rather reticent Guzma and a cataleptic Lusamine in tow.

Lillie insisted they weren't gone longer than a half hour. What the hell.

Anyway, Moon was cradling a busted Dex she discovered in Ultra Space. It was an older model, the plastic corroded to expose damaged wiring, a busted screen and melted lumps that were probably once buttons. It dripped something pitch black and corrosive, so she'd put it in a plastic bag that could resist even a Salazzle's toxins. You still remember the way the sludgy fluid congealed in one corner of the bag.

"Someone got lost in there," she told you quietly after she'd caught Nebby, as you all headed back to Seafolk Village. Her eyes looked haunted.

You ended up being the one to assist agents Looker and Anabel, to catch the Ultra Beasts—Moon was too busy balancing her new Champion duties with constantly checking up on Kukui to see if had recovered anything from the Dex wreckage, any trace of its owner. Nanu insisted you not tell her about Fallers. You hate to admit it, because she's your twin sister and you guys aren't supposed to have secrets, but you agree. She won't take it well.

"C'mon," you say to her, trying to get her out of Kukui's lab. It's not good for her. Since Lillie left, she's been... despondent at best. "Why don't we explore Poni Island some more? Hey, remember that Battle Tree that Hau mentioned? Maybe we could—"

"No thanks, Sun," she interrupts dully.

You sigh. "Okay, sis, I love you, but you're starting to scare me."

"I just—"

"There's nothing you can do about that Dex, okay?"

She stares at you with a sort of horror, her grey eyes a contrast to your pale blue. Most people don't think you two are twins because she has black hair while yours is golden-blonde, and while you are both pale, you're peachier than her. The two of you really are night and day, at least in terms of appearance.

"Doesn't it bother you?" she snaps.

"Of course it does," you answer quietly, patiently. "But there's still nothing you can do about it."

"I can find the owner," she retorts softly, resolutely.

"Moon—"

Footsteps that make the wooden steps creak. You and your sister turn to see Professor Burnet coming down the stairs. She's taking a break from her research to visit her husband, and she comes bearing a smile and gingersnap cookies. "Hey, how're you two doing down here?"

"Fine," Moon says before you can protest.

Burnet smiles, then peers at the counter, where the busted Dex sits, hooked up to Moon's own Dex. Rotom is hovering above as the machine sorts what data remains on the damaged computer chip. Burnet's brows rise. "What're you two doing with a damaged Unova Dex?"

You blink. "Unova?"

Burnet nods and sets the gingersnaps aside to get a better look. She places her chin her hand. "Yeah. The Professor there—Juniper—she had a prototype that looked like this. I mean, I didn't get a good look, but it definitely looks Unovan."

She eyes you both suspiciously as you and Moon exchange a glance. "Where did you get this?"

"Um," you mumble, because that's always a good way to start an explanation.

"It's... a long story," Moon says, which is really not much better.

.

.

.

Touya wakes up drenched in sweat, gasping. His heart bangs against his ribcage so hard it sends reverberations all throughout his body. His hands are shaking.

In his mind's eye, he sees it—that weird, sci-fi aquarium world, an ethereal jellyfish with a tinkling, chirpy trill and feels something cold and sticky running down his back, something long and glassy wrapping around his neck. He remembers something _enveloping_ him, greedy whispers of _mine, mine, mine_ in his ears, and then a sudden urge, hot and all-consuming, to _scream_ and _break_ and _destroy_ —

In the present, he sits up and blinks, gasping. He touches his neck, but there's no lingering, noose-like sensation. No nothing. Gradually, the memory slides back into the depths of his subconscious, and he can't for the life of him recall it.

.

.

.

100KR is given a new identity and a new codename that he wields proudly. He's been given the status of agent, though he has only two years of training and knows that it usually takes much longer. In his naivete, he thinks this is because he did something to impress the top brass, and not because they have some sort of secret motivation for keeping someone like him in their pocket.

It's maybe a month after his promotion, while 100KR is moving into his new office, that he overhears—

"I can't _believe_ they promoted him to full agent."

—and pauses, his arms filled with a box of his belongings. He shouldn't be eavesdropping, but he's about ninety percent sure that, whoever it is, they're talking about him.

"It's really not our decision," responds a smooth voice, one that 100KR recognizes. 100KR pictures Agent 000, silver-haired and red-eyed and notoriously cynical. So much so that the only one who tolerates him is his partner. That means the other speaker is...

Agent 414. Yes, she was the agent who 100KR first met in Hoenn, two years ago. Who recruited him. A stark contrast from 000, 414 is pretty, professional, and dark-haired, with mocha skin and blue eyes. He hasn't spoken to her in that time, but he's heard enough rumors to get an idea of the sort of she-beast she is in the field.

There's a loud sigh from behind the door. "The man can't even speak fluid Common..."

"He's learning, though," 000 responds flatly. "And he really is a good guy, once you get to know him—"

"'Good guy' has nothing to do with it. He's severely undertrained!"

100KR frowns.

A sigh from 000. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh, _don't_ give me that 'you're overreacting' look. I'm _not_ overreacting here. He's gonna get himself killed!"

"Nadia—"

" _Nanu_!"

"What are you gonna do, Nadia?!" 000 suddenly bursts out, and 100KR takes a step away from the door. " _Huh_? Go to the top brass, say that to their faces? You think that, what, because _you_ were the one who recruited him, that this is a reflection on you? Well it's not! This has _nothing_ to do with us! And the sooner you accept that, the better!"

There's a long pause. 100KR is just about to turn and leave when—

"It's not fair," 414 whispers softly.

Just as softly, 000 responds, "Life isn't fair."

100KR leaves after that, convinced the conversation had been about envy over his recent promotion. He never stops to ask _who_ life isn't fair for—them, or him.

.

.

.

You watch from the other side of the glass, your arms folded tightly, as N tries to coax Reshiram into eating. You haven't heard from Touya in years, and then suddenly Iris gets a call from the Hoenn Champion about his truth-dragon showing up in a cave somewhere? Unaccompanied? The _hell_ is that about?

Rosa is standing next to you, also watching. The Hoenn Champion and her scientist friend give you a wide berth after you explain that you were his sister, Reshiram's Trainer's. Cheren and Bianca should be here, too, but they're both grown up with responsibilities of their own—Cheren has a Gym to run that's tough as hell and attracts challengers like bees to flowers, and he can't just up and abandon that, as much as you could see he wanted to. Bianca is the same. She was about to take exam for her science license or whatever, so you made the executive decision to call and tell her _after_ she had taken the test, and by then you were already in Hoenn. You've promised to update them on any new developments, and have promised your mom the same thing.

N finally comes back into the room. His expression is grim.

"Reshiram can't recall how they got separated," he announces.

You bite your thumb. That's not good.

"It _was_ six years ago," Rosa points out.

"No," N says, "Reshiram claims it was recently. In fact, they were quite surprised to learn that six years had passed since they last battled with Zekrom."

You nearly bite your thumb off like a carrot. Rosa opens her mouth, hesitates, and then closes it again, clearly stumped.

"So what the hell does that mean?" you ask. "How can they get separated six years ago and not realize it's been six years?"

N shakes his head. It's his way of saying he doesn't know.

Shit.

"Champion May said that Reshiram came through a ring," Rosa pipes up suddenly. "And Champion Serena is here looking for a Pokémon she thinks is responsible. Maybe—when she finds it—you can ask that Pokémon?"

N's expression remains melancholy. "Maybe..."

Rosa offers him a consoling look. Geez, you know he and Touya had some weird soul-bond going on. Touya went out to look for him, and that's how this all started. Guy probably feels guilty.

You feel guilty too. You should've tried harder to stop him. Should've convinced him to take more than just Reshiram, take his whole fucking team.

Now he's gone.

You bite your thumb again.

 _Where the fucking hell **are** you, bro?_

.

.

.

Touya starts to get sick of the yawning emptiness inside his own head. He keeps reaching for things that aren't there, gets frustrated, reaches harder, gets even more frustrated—it's a vicious cycle.

Riley can't distract him forever. When he's alone, Touya repeats his own name to himself—"Touya, Touya, Touya"—as though saying it will somehow make it his. But saying a word isn't enough to _feel_ it, to feel the lifetime behind and all the things that give the word the meaning.

After a while, his own name sounds like nonsense to his ears, the way words do when you say them too much. And in the end, his name is just another word, one that he simply doesn't recognize.

.

.

.

100KR is given the task of training a young recruit named Riley, with whom he seems to connect to better than any of the other agents. 414 seems to take this as a personal offense and makes an effort to avoid them both. 000 has the decency to act civilly towards them both, and Riley has decided that he mildly tolerates the other agent.

"Don't let Nadia getcha down," 000 says one day. He's treating 100KR and Riley to lunch. 000 is sipping something lukewarm and pitch-black, while Riley is sneaking bits of sandwich to his Riolu and 100KR's new Pokémon partner, a sleek young Croagunk. "She's a real hardass when it comes to protocol. Give her a little time—she'll come 'round."

"I can verify the 'hardass' part," Riley remarks, but doesn't look up from his task. 100KR chooses not to comment on that.

"I have no quarrel with her," 100KR says, and winces. Unlike the other agents, his accent bleeds into every word. He's trying very hard to shake it, but some subconscious part of him clings to it as the only reminder of his past.

That, and his unusual medical knowledge, which, coupled with the Mega Stone he had on him that was apparently affiliated with Audino (according to May), a healing species, he's come to the conclusion that he was most likely a med student or something of that variety in his past life. Not that it matters now—it's just something 100KR likes to consider every now and again.

"And she's got no quarrel with you," 000 replies. If he's phased by 100KR's thick accent, he doesn't say anything. "She's actually worried about you, rookie."

"I'm no rookie, Chief 000."

000 snickers like 100KR's said something funny. "Just be careful out in the field, KR. Try not get yourself killed."

.

.

.

Sun and Moon explain everything to you and Kukui. Because you are Unovan or because you feel slightly responsible for this because of your field of study, you take it upon yourself to be the deliverer of bad news. Moon tries to insist on doing it herself—she's a Champion, she says, it's her job—but she's a kid, and you're not going to let her do that. Besides, you know the region better. You've met Juniper once (though you are admittedly closer with her friend Fennel). You should be the one to do it.

You take a ferry to Nuvema that lasts three days, and during that time you memorize every groove and loose wire in the wrecked Dex. Part of you wonders if this is connected to Aether's experiments (the organization funded your own research, so that thought makes you wince guiltily) or if it's completely unrelated. Ultra Wormholes show up mostly in Alola, though there are reports of similar events occurring in other regions over the course of recorded history. It was apparently how the Draconid tribe gained knowledge of a parallel world that lacked Mega Evolution. But they were incredibly rare in Alola alone, much less the rest of the world.

Still, though, some small, relentless part of you wonders, _is this my fault?_

You arrive at Juniper's laboratory and are greeted by a blonde, bespectacled woman who claims to be her personal assistant. She smiles at you, introducing herself as Bian— But she stops when she sees the Dex in your hands, and the smile drops from her face. In a hushed voice, she invites you in, her face solemn, and then goes to get Juniper.

You run your thumb over the edge of the machine. All the lingering Nihilego venom has been cleaned off, but you have to wonder what happened to the owner, if they encountered that thing in its native environment. You take a deep breath and choose not to think.

Juniper comes in, at first friendly and cordial. She remarks that she almost didn't recognize you, with the way your skin has darkened under the Alolan sun. Any more pleasantries she has planned evaporate when you present her with the busted Dex, because you just want it to be over and done with.

"Where did you get this?" Juniper demands. There's a sudden protective gleam in her eyes.

"A pair of siblings found it," you explain apologetically. You don't know what else to say.

Juniper's eyes narrow. "Where?"

You bite your inner cheek and say nothing.

Juniper calls Bianca and tells her to get someone named Melaina. Bianca exchanges a nervous glance between you and Juniper, then bolts out the door like a startled Deerling.

"This was Touya's Dex," Juniper says quietly. "He's been missing for six years. I need to know where you got this, Burnet."

You feel like you'll draw blood, the way you're biting the inside of your cheek. _In Ultra Space_ , you can't say. _In a place full of monsters that'll tear people apart at a moment's notice. He's probably dead, if he's been gone as long as you say he has._

"...it's really better for your peace of mind if I don't," you say instead.

Bianca returns with a woman with blue eyes and threads of grey in her brunette hair, who is dressed in a simple white blouse and a denim skirt. She has a toughness about her that reminds you of a Trainer, but there's worry etched so deeply in her face that it's almost indistinguishable. You realize this must be Melaina—and from the way she stares at the Dex with a heartbroken horror, you realize she must be the mother.

You don't know where you find the strength to do it, but you stand there and listen as she sobs.

.

.

.

About a year after his promotion, 100KR is assigned to a Task Force in Alola alongside 000 and 414. 000 takes the role of leader, and he briefs 100KR about their mission—it is then that 100KR first hears the words "Ultra Beast".

It's like something out of science fiction. Aliens from another dimension that attack anything and everything that gets in their way, thrust into a world so bafflingly different from their own that they lash out in fury and confusion. It's sort of tragic, in a sense, but 000 reinforces that these beings are _dangerous_ and should be _destroyed_ , so 100KR forces himself to compartmentalize whatever emotion the story evokes in him.

Their mission takes them all across the archipelago, and then leave extraterrestrial corpses in their wake. After they dispatch another beast, they spend a silent dinner at a local restaurant. The food is delicious, but there's a sort of melancholy in the air that 100KR can't shake and turns the food tasteless in his mouth, because each night he has nonsensical nightmares about a place he can never remember upon waking up and he keeps seeing the faces of the dispatched beasts in his mind's eye. A sort of guilt gnaws at his belly. He can't explain it, but he feels sorry for them. Dangerous as they are, these creatures didn't ask to end up here.

He wonders if 414 and 000 feel the same way, or if it's just him.

"So, rookie," 414 says in their motel on an island called Ula'ula. They're in the last stage of their mission. Only one more UB remains: Codename Glutton. She eyes him lazily. It's been a long day. "What do you think of your first mission? Was it everything you were expecting?"

"...it is not as I expected, no," 100KR admits.

They are alone, right now. Just the two of them. 000 is off scouting the location, and "doing leader things", as he says. 100KR is almost as surprised by 000 shift in attitude (suddenly proactive and very serious, but not in a cynical sort of way) as he is by the fact that 000 knows the native language, and can speak it with startling efficiency.

414 is silent for a long time. Her Sylveon, Gizmo, dozes lazily on the pillow of her bed, ribbons curling lazily around his body. She insists nicknames strengthen bonds, though 100KR doesn't find his bond with Croagunk is diminished by the lack of a nickname. Light glitters off Gizmo's oddly blue fur.

"Have you—" she starts, stops, then starts again. "Have you noticed... how those things go after you, KR?"

100KR blinks. He has, admittedly, noticed that the UBs do tend to target him more so than either 000 or 414, and does find it odd. He frowns. "What is the significance?"

She looks like she's going to say something, but then 000 comes back and says he's found the UB on the shore—it's asleep, but it's eaten half the vegetation around the coast. Probably digesting. They need to strike now.

As they get up, 414 brushes past. "Stay close to me, okay?"

"I am not in need of a sitter, Agent," 100KR retorts. "I would not be deemed field-ready if I were."

414's eyes darken. "Just stay close to me."

.

.

.

The phone rings. Looker picks up. He's almost at Snowpoint, and he didn't think the reception here would be so good. "Hello?" he says into the receiver.

"Ah, Mr. Looker. I'm glad I caught you." Anabel's Hoennian twang is unmistakable. Like him, she never shook her accent, and the IP never forced her to.

Looker taps the side of his seat. She sounds nervous. That's not a good thing. "...you have news on the sample Riley sent you, yes?"

He has no idea how Riley managed to do it, but the freelancer was able to discreetly extract a small sample of Touya's blood and send it to HQ for analysis. Probably had help from his fellow freelancers (Marley, Cheryl, Mira, Buck, any one of them would have not hesitated to do Riley a favor). Riley had no idea why, of course. He knows about Fallers and Ultra Beasts, but not what they were capable of, and when Looker heard about black stains on Touya's clothes, alarm bells were sent off. Looker hates to ask his superior to run a simple tox-screen, but Anabel is one of the few agents in the know of the UBs and has the power to have something like this done discreetly.

Anabel sighs. "Yeah. Um. The ME found traces of Nihilego's venom in his blood."

An icy hand closed around Looker's throat. He'd heard from Wicke what that substance could do to people, what it had done to Aether's old President. "...I see."

"I know what you're thinking," Anabel says suddenly. "Mr. Looker, they were just _traces_. There's no evidence of long-term exposure. In fact, it's more than likely that he came into contact with one, but he got away before it could properly merge with him."

"Maybe..."

It's not implausible, actually. The same thing had happened to Skull's former boss, according to that boy Looker met in Alola—Sun. His sister Moon and her friend Lillie had witnessed it. In addition, those two girls were two of the only Fallers the IP weren't aware of, and Looker's report had not specified that Guzma or Lusamine had been exposed to Symbiont while _in_ Ultra Space. It was likely the IP would assume they'd just been unlucky enough to get caught by the UBs that spilled out of the numerous Wormholes that had opened up when Aether decided to mess with dimensional walls. It had happened before. Ah, civilians getting hurt by UBs, not dimensional walls crumbling.

There was a pause on the other end that made Looker worry. "Chief? Are you still there?"

"Yeah... I was just..." Another pause. "I was thinking that maybe... the severance might've been the cause of the amnesia, y'know? I mean, this neurotoxin has already been proven to alter brain chemistry and suppress certain emotions, so, maybe it can suppress memories, too?"

The scientists back at HQ actually had a theory that there's something in Ultra Space, some psychic wavelength or something, that messes with brainwaves and slowly erased memory. The more time you spend there, the more you lose, and would account for the total amnesia most Fallers suffer from, if they were in there long enough. After observing the output radiation from the Wormholes that opened all over Alola, the data looks promising in supporting that hypothesis.

But Anabel doesn't know that. And she doesn't need to spend her nights worrying about something like that.

"Chief, unlike Touya, you had no traces of Symbiont's toxin in your system," Looker points out. _Neither did I_ , he doesn't say. "I doubt Symbiont is solely responsible."

"...you're probably right. I'm overthinking this."

"It is natural of you to worry."

A chuckle from the other end. "I guess so. Hey, tell Riley I said hi, okay?"

"Of course, Chief."

.

.

.

414 sacrificed herself to save him.

It's still jarring, the fact that's dead. Because she can't be gone. She was just here. She was just—

In front of him, while he hesitated, wracked by guilt and strange sort of fear. Leaping in front of him, saving his life, being snapped up by one of Glutton's many maws.

The UB is dead, now, and 414 with it. Gizmo lets out a mournful howl that chills 100KR's blood. 000 and his Liepard are circling the corpse to make sure it really is dead. 000 isn't looking at him.

It will be quite some time before 100KR understands what happened and why—why Glutton went after him in particular. Why 000 will look at him with something like blame even though he's trying to internally convince himself that it's not entirely 100KR's fault. Why 414 did what she did and why she was so afraid for him.

But right now, there's only grief.

.

.

.

Touya has nightmares almost every night and never remembers them when he wakes. He hasn't had a decent night's sleep in a week and a half, and every time he wakes up, he's overwhelmed by this overpowering sensation of _absence_ , a _total_ and _complete_ lack of self, and it nearly swallows him whole each time. He's ashamed to say it, but he sobs to himself— _who am i, who am i, who am i_ —until the sun rises and he's forced to pretend it never happened.

He begins visiting the library because reading books both calm his nerves and the action is distracting. He'd rather focus on other stories than the fact that his own has been lost somewhere.

Riley finds him the first time in the fiction section, and then joked about Touya being a bookworm. From there, it devolved into an hour-long debate on why being a nerd is not a bad thing. After that, Riley would meet up with him there, and they'd talk about everything and nothing, and Touya would almost find his lack of identity to be irrelevant.

"He actually _said_ that?" Touya asks, alarmed. Riley often talks of a man named Looker, who was a sort of mentor-figure to the man growing up. Though from the stories Touya's hearing, the older man sounds like quite a character.

"Looker—he's not so good with tact." Riley smiles mischievously—a genuine smile. Touya has admittedly become partial to him. He's really a nice guy, once you get to know him. "Especially since he was still learning Common at the time."

Touya flashes an appreciative smile, but listens to that little voice that says not to take things at face value. He pauses, considering how Riley has been acting recently, and then, slowly, "Is this the guy that's coming?"

Riley hesitates, then nods. "Yeah. He's a good guy, Touya. I think you'll like him."

Huh. So _that's_ why Riley's been talking about this "Looker" person so much. Touya really should have figured.

.

.

.

Not long after they've called in a clean-up team to cremate of the carcass—and 414's remains—they find a girl laying on the shore, further down from where they were. She's unconscious when they find her, and 100KR determines that she has sunstroke and needs immediate medical attention. As they carry her to a hospital, she regains consciousness briefly. She tells them her name is Anabel, and she has no memory except for a few things, like her name and that she defended a tower somewhere in Hoenn.

100KR finds the similarities to be very chilling.

"She is in need of assistance," 100KR argues once they reach the hospital and have Anabel admitted. They've just gotten word from their superiors to bring her back to HQ.

"Not the kinda help we can give her," 000 retorts. He's bitter, and tired, now that his partner's gone. Now that he's shouldering the burden alone.

"Chief 000, I hesitate to argue with my superior, but we cannot leave her simply here."

000 does not retort.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:**

 _Nadia's name means "hope", btw. I thought it was fitting._

 _Writing some of Looker's dialogue in the flashbacks was admittedly difficult. I hope I did a enough good job._

 _Hope you enjoyed!  
Luna_


	3. Gain

You wring your hands as N chats with Hoopa, this impish little purple thing with a mischievous glint in its eye that admittedly makes you a little nervous, while Touko continues gnawing at her thumb. Again, Champion May and Professor Birch Jr give you a respectful breadth. You think it's a little more insulting, but you have the sense not to say it.

You're here because N is your friend, and you know that this troubles him deeply. He and Touya had a strange sort of connection, according to Touko—something that was theirs and theirs only. Touya left Unova to search for N, which is how this all started, and now N probably feels responsible for the Hero of Truth's disappearance. He'll do anything to help, you know. Touko knows that too, which is probably why she agreed to let you both come along, even though she's an emotional wreck because her little brother is god-knows-where without a team to protect him.

You are a stranger here. You are the thing that is not like the others and doesn't belong. You know Touya in name only, in the admiring murmurs you've heard for the last six years. Touya Kokuen, Hero of Truth. The yin to N's yang. But you are here, and you are going to try to be helpful, and if that means being a shoulder to lean on, then okay, that's what you'll be.

"Okay, does it know what happened or not?" Touko demands suddenly, interrupting the conversation N and Hoopa were having in Poké-speak.

N sighs heavily, and you know instantly that something's wrong. "Hoopa claims that they pulled Reshiram from a rift in the dimensions."

Your jaw drops a little, while Touko blinks several times in rapid succession. "Okay," she says slowly, "so what the fuck does that mean? Where's Touya?"

"They don't know," N responds.

Touko bites at her thumb for moment and turns around so quickly her ponytail lashes the air. You look at N—he has dark circles under his eyes, and looks as though he hasn't slept in a while.

"Can this thing _find_ him?" Touko asks suddenly, turning back around.

You glance at N, who says something to Hoopa. Hoopa replies enthusiastically, but N frowns. "They claim they can obtain the power to do so if we open the Prison Bottle that's currently in Champion Serena Senarak's possession," he reports.

"Great! Let's get that Prison Bottle!"

But you frown. "Champion Serena said to keep it closed."

"Fuck her. We need to find my brother."

"She says Hoopa will _rampage_."

" _I'll_ rampage if you don't get that damned bottle." Touko turns to N. "You with me or against me Harmonia?"

N looks between Touko and Hoopa like he can't decide which outcome would be worse.

You open your mouth to make another argument, but Touko's HoloCaster trills and she groans. She answers it, glaring.

"Okay, what is so damn impor—" She stops. In the flickering image, you can see the back of Touko's mother's head. Touko's expression changes, softening from annoyance to confusion. "Mom? What's going— Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do mean— Slow down— _What_?"

You and N exchange a glance. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

.

.

.

100KR changes his codename to "Looker" because he's tried of numbers and he doesn't want to be a statistic. 414 was a statistic. They held a funeral, and then expected everyone to get right back to work. 000 makes no secret how bitter he is about that.

About a year the Task Force succeeded/failed, Looker is assigned to a case in Sinnoh. It's there that he finally becomes aware of what 414 was talking about—he is clumsy with the Sinnohan language, easily distracted, inexperienced. He either arrives too early or too late, and he ends up allowing a fourteen-year-old girl he enlisted to do most of the heavy lifting.

By the end, though, he successfully arrests Charon, and he counts that as a victory. A small one, but a victory nonetheless.

Looker is offered a promotion afterwards. He turns it down, because he knows he's not ready.

.

.

.

Riley meets Looker at the station, his blue ensemble a sharp contrast from the usual blacks and greys of the locals. He grins and waves, and Looker wonders how Riley can stand the frigid temperatures, because Looker is dressed in a thermal-lined trench coat and a wool scarf and he's shivering.

"How was your train ride?" the freelancer asks smoothly.

Looker shrugs. It was just like any other train. "Fine. Anabel called on the way. She says 'hi'."

Riley arches a brow, and there's a glint in his eye that Looker finds disconcerting. "You gave her your number?"

"...for work emergencies, yes." Looker feels it imperative that he not mention that Touya's mental state might be compromised. Besides, he has to decide that for himself.

"Oh really?" Now Riley is speaking in a different tone, one reserved for school children talking about crushes. Ah, _that_ again. Riley really needs to learn to let some things go.

Looker decides to change the subject. "How is Touya?"

Riley doesn't bite. "Changing the subject old timer?"

Looker shoves it down his throat. "Early forties is not old. How is Touya?"

Riley sighs. "He's... _okay_ , at best. He's been having nightmares, though, and I think the whole loss of identity thing has really hit him hard." Another sigh, and he runs a hand roughly over his face. "I really wish I could read Fallers the same way I can with normal people."

 _But the Wormhole aura gets in the way_ , is what he doesn't say. He doesn't have to.

"I've told him a little about you," Riley goes on, "so he won't be that wary."

"You didn't have to—"

"Yeah, but I did." Riley shrugs, but the movement is fast, jerky. "He's staying at the Center, but he visits the library a lot. He's probably there now. Want me to walk you there?"

It's been a while since Looker saw Riley in person, and it'll be a while until the last time. Best to take full advantage. "Of course. It'll be good to catch up."

"So," Riley begins with a knowing smirk as they start walking, "how're things with _Anabel_?"

.

.

.

You haven't really been off Ula'ula since the incident, aside from the occasional "Kahuna meeting" or whatever, which you always drag your feet to. This is the first time you've been off your island for something unrelated. But, to be fair, it's also the first time you've been caught up in the IP while being on the other side—the civilian side. So, everything about this is uncharted territory. It's a little tiring, honestly.

"So you actually came alone, without any Pokémon, to act as Ana's bodyguard?" You arch a brow. You've known 100KR—or, "Looker" now—for a long time, but you've never known him to be this stupid. No, something else is going on. You may be retired, but you've still got a detective's mind, and you'll be damned if you miss such an obvious clue. "Please tell me you're not being serious."

Your former subordinate doesn't respond. That's all the answer you need to know there's some serious bullshit going on inside his head.

You groan and massage your temples. Fucking hell, you're getting too old to deal with the shit of the younger generation. Granted, there's maybe less than a decade between you two, but age is a state of mind and you feel a hell of a lot older, so that should count for something. "Are you outta your goddamn mind? Those UBs'll kill you, KR. Without hesitation."

"I realize that." He's gotten more fluid, you think. Good for him. Y'know, besides the part where he's being suicidal and all.

"What do you think that'll accomplish?" you demand. "You won't exactly make a good bodyguard without a way to defend yourself."

KR is silent, and a sickening thought hits you. Again, you groan.

"Please tell me you are not planning to be a goddamned Substitute."

He sighs, but does not deny it.

Fuck this. Fuck this, you're done with the IP. You've been done with the IP for years. You should be at home tending to your dozens of Meowth like the crazy old bastard you are and not dealing with this shit.

"You are a goddamned—" You don't finish. You just run a hand over your face. You know what to say, but it still stings. "If you die, Nadia'll have died for nothing. You know that right?"

KR is silent. You hope that's enough to make him rethink his ludicrous scheme. He's not your responsibility, but you still gotta worry. It's practically in your genes by now, worrying.

 _Fuck my life_ , you think.

.

.

.

Looker loses Croagunk during a mission in Johto to investigate the more sinister factions of the revived Team Rocket. He ran into a grunt with unusually high-leveled Pokémon and a gun strapped to his hip. It all happened so fast that Looker could hardly believe it.

His superiors insisted he take a leave while he dealt with his bereavement. They had offered the same when 414 had died, and that memory, alongside the fresh pain of losing Croagunk... it's too much, it's too much. He accepts without hesitation.

It's during this time that he begins to grow skeptic of his superiors. After a month or so, most agents are pressured into returning to work. Looker is not. He finds this very unusual.

Now that he thinks about it, the top brass has always shown Looker an unusual level of favoritism. Swift promotion, never forcing him to ditch his accent. They even offer him a new partner almost immediately (even though you have to earn that right, and there's usually a two-year vetting period after a death like this, to make sure something like this was less likely to happen again), which Looker declines. The process of choosing a partner was not something that could be rushed or forced. Bonds needed to be formed naturally, and right now, Looker didn't think he could bond with any Pokémon right now.

"So did you hear about Anabel's promotion?" Riley asks. Looker's former pupil has taken to visiting him occasionally, offering condolences, a shoulder to lean on, and even a distracting brand of small talk.

Looker blinks. "I had not, in fact."

"Yeah. She's becoming a chief—and old Zeroes is retiring, they say."

Looker had heard about 000's retirement. He _hadn't_ heard about Anabel. "Rather soon, is it not?"

Riley arches a brow. "Zeroes, or Ana?"

" _Anabel_. And Riley, you must respect for your superiors. Yes, even your future superiors, you must respect."

"I don't have to respect you and you're my superior," Riley points out.

"That is different. I am your mentor, and I encourage my students to speak freely." Looker finds it a little unusual, this Anabel business, but he shrugs. "I am glad for Anabel, though. She is deserving of it."

"You don't find it weird that she's being promoted so quickly?" Riley asks, carefully observing Looker's face, which the agent tries to keep neutral. Riley can read auras and emotions, but he always seems to have trouble reading Looker and Anabel. "I mean, she was just made agent last year, and she didn't have a long enough trainer period."

"Nor did I," Looker admits in a moment of candor. "My own promotion, it was quite hasty also."

"That so?"

Looker nods.

"Huh. Maybe it's because you two are nicer than the rest of the lot." Riley speaks with a joking tone and face that suggests he's just thinking out loud. "Or it could have something to do with that weird aura have."

Looker stops. Blinks. "Pardon?"

"Your weird aura. Y'know—violet, brown, yellow. All rippling like a pond. It makes you both, you and Anabel, _impossible_ to read," Riley explains casually. He stops when he notices Looker's uncomprehending expression and frowns. "You...don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

Looker shakes his head.

Riley's brows furrow. "...huh."

.

.

.

You've just finished moving into your new office when there's a rapping on the door. "Just a sec," you call as you fidget with the knickknacks you've set up on your desk. Yes, you're a little OCD. Your colleagues tease you about it constantly, but you don't care. It's a little thing that makes you feel like your own person, and as an amnesiac, you feel like you deserve to develop some quirks to keep you grounded.

You answer the door, and your smile dissipates.

Mr. Looker.

You feel like you should explain yourself here. It's not that you _dislike_ Mr. Looker or anything. You're actually quite fond of him. You've known him for as long as you can remember (which is, to say a few years since you woke up on the beach that fateful day). He has sort of mentored you, showed you the ropes and the inner workings of the IP alongside old Agent 000, who you hear is due for retirement soon. But not long after you received word of your promotion, Mr. Looker seemed intent to dissuade you from accepting it, for whatever reason. He has countless reasons, of course, but none of them make sense to you: maybe this promotion wasn't a good thing, maybe you weren't ready. A thousand maybes, nothing concrete.

You cross your arms and try to remain civil. No arguing, not now. "Can I help you Mr. Looker?"

He holds up his left hand, and it's then that you see he's holding a bottle of champagne by the neck. The look he gives you is apologetic, of all thing. "I came to offer an official apology to you, Chief Anabel."

Chief Anabel. You sort of like the way that sounds. It doesn't particularly excuse his attitude, but it makes you willing to invite him in and hear him out. Because you get a feeling that you'll get a real reason out of him now, and not another maybe.

"I am apologizing for my recent attitude," he says, placing the bottle on your desk so that he doesn't disturb your knickknacks. He's always been considerate that way. "It was uncalled for, and uncouth, and I hope we can, as you say, make amends."

"Oh?" You arch a brow and take a closer look at the champagne. It's the good stuff, too. This is a genuine apology. "What made you change your mind?"

He winces, even though your tone is careful neutral. "It occurred to me, sometime last night, that this promotion—to accept or decline, it is your call. You decide what is best for you."

You're admittedly taken aback. An apology you were expecting, but not for him to change his mind so quickly. "Oh. That's... thank you, Mr. Looker. I accept your apology."

But Looker shakes his head. "Not yet, Chief. I feel as though I should explain myself first."

"Um." You feel he doesn't have to, and you really don't want to revisit the argument, but you are admittedly curious. "Only if you want to."

Looker sighs heavily, and brushes imaginary dust off his trench coat, the way he does when he's nervous. "You see, Chief, I too was promoted quickly. Too quickly. My mission in Sinnoh—ce fut un désastre."

This startles you. You've heard a very different account of Looker's mission in Sinnoh. "Really?"

"Indeed. My mission, it was terrible. My inexperience, you see, it was of a great hindrance to me. Yes, in the end, I succeeded, but not without adversity and very much of it." He eyes you with a weariness you've never seen in him before. All these years, and you've never seen him look quite so old. "I am just worried that you may suffer similarly, Chief. To move quickly can be good, but there are things to learn along the way, and they can help you very much. I just hope that inexperience will not be your undoing."

"No, I understand. That... makes a lot of sense, actually." You look down at your feet, feeling a little stupid. This is not another maybe. This is deep and heartfelt and him looking out for you, like always. You should have known. "Mr. Looker, I—"

"Ah, let us not focus on this." Mr. Looker picks up the bottle and pulls a cork remover out of his pocket. "Come—let us toast your success, for it is well deserved."

You allow yourself a chuckle. Right. Today is meant to be a good day. "Oh, Mr. Looker. We should probably toast to Zeroes's retirement, too, y'know."

You see a flash of teeth in his smile, and the corners of his eyes crinkle. "To that, I will drink."

.

.

.

Looker finds 000 just as he's about to leave. His superior looks surprised to see him, then he cracks his signature smirk.

"Oh, what's this? You coming to say goodbye, rookie?" 000 is trying to make a joke out a bittersweet occasion—retirement. In Looker's opinion, 000 still has a few good years left in him, but the loss of a partner is a crippling pain that Looker can now fully sympathize with.

That's not why he's here, though. And 000 seems to realize that.

"Anabel isn't the first to come through the Wormhole, is she?" Looker is a clever man, and he is a damn good detective.

000 drops the façade and heaves a sigh. "You really want to know about this, KR?"

"I really do."

"...fine."

000 leads him to a private, unoccupied office, quickly checks for bugs (finding none), blocks all the vents, and tells him to speak in a low voice. Then, 000 tells him everything—about Fallers, about the UBs, about the IP's used of Fallers, _everything_. All the things that Looker needed to know and then some, highly classified, a secret barred off by bright red tape with "danger" scrawled across. It occurs to Looker that 000 could get into a lot of trouble for revealing this, so it's a good thing the man is retiring.

When all is said and done, there is silence.

Looker's jaw twitches. "It was me that the UBs were targeting, then."

It's not a question. There are no more questions.

"You can't blame yourself for what happened to Nadia, KR," 000 says quietly, like he can read Looker's mind. "That wasn't your fault."

But it was. He was the target. She had gotten in the way. That's what happened.

"With Anabel, it will be the same, will it not?"

000 sighs, and it occurs to Looker, just then, that despite being his superior, Looker is taller. At least half a foot taller. "One day. Until they figure out how to stop Wormholes from opening and the UBs from getting through, the top brass'll keep any Faller they can get their hands on in reserve."

"...I see."

"Don't beat yourself up. This shit was going on long before you showed up," 000 says.

"It is wrong," Looker retorts.

000 pauses for a moment. "...now you see why I'm retiring."

In fact, Looker does. If he had to deal with this knowledge on a daily basis, he might have become quite cynical himself.

000 fixes Looker with a crimson stare. "One last piece of advise from your superior officer: just watch yourself. This place ain't too kind to people like you, not underneath it all."

Looker bows his head. He will take those words to heart, even years later. Because 000 has done something not many have done with him in the past—be honest with him. "A thousand thanks, Chief."

"Nanu," 000 corrects him with a hint of warmth. "I'm not your chief anymore."

.

.

.

Looker gets back to work after that.

It's exactly three years after the death of his partner Croagunk that he becomes the lead investigator on a case in Unova.

.

.

.

The library in Snowpoint is chilly, even with the heat on. Touya wonders, briefly, how much the city spends on heating. Riley says that there's snow up until late spring and the summers are mild at best.

He's pouring over a book of Unovan mythology. He's not entirely sure what he's hoping to find in the thick parchment pages and the whimsically idyllic illustrations. Some connection, some recollection. He was probably from Unova, so maybe the mythos will strike something.

Other than the fact that he's more partial to Reshiram than Zekrom (mostly aesthetically, not because he prefers Truth to Ideals or whatever), Touya can't think of anything he finds significant. Although, he does find it a little amusing to read about an ice dragon who is thought to be an empty void while sitting in a library, surrounded by constant snowfall, while there's an empty space where his memories should be.

Or maybe he just has some sick sense of humor.

He's reading a page about the Swords of Justice when there's a rapping on the table. Touya glances up. Riley has returned, but now he's accompanied by an unfamiliar man in a trench coat.

Touya straightens a little. "You must be the infamous Looker. I've heard a lot about you."

"Yes. Riley seems to have taken it upon himself to color your opinion." The man speaks with a faint accent, Touya notices. Though where that accent is from, he doesn't know. Looker gestures to the seat opposite to Touya. "May I sit?"

"Sure." Looker sits, and Touya watches. He doesn't look quite as old as Riley made him out to be. "Just so you know, I take almost everything I hear with a grain of salt."

Looker looks amused. "Is that so?"

Touya nods.

"An attitude I can appreciate. It is important to think for one's own self, after all."

Riley claps his hands together loudly. "Well, I think I'll leave you to it."

And then he goes, leaving Touya alone with Looker.

Looker eyes the book Touya was reading in a contemplative manner. "A mythology buff, are you?"

"Oh! Uh..." A pang of shame goes through Touya, like a child getting his hand caught in the cookie jar. He quickly closes the book and peers down at the leather-bound cover instead of Looker's face. "I-I was just—"

"No need to explain," Looker says pleasantly, like reading books about old gods and legends isn't weird. Maybe it's not, to him. "Mythology can be quite fascinating. The previous Champion, Cynthia, was quite a mythology buff herself. I had the privilege of meeting her once, and she spoke with me about some very intriguing legends in Sinnoh's mythos."

"Unova's is just full of fighting," Touya says before he can stop himself. He quickly clamps his mouth shut. That was a weird thing to say, why did he say that?

But Looker chuckles. "A very warlike culture, indeed." Touya feels a little like that was an insult, but Looker's expression sobers before he can comment. "But, ah, we can discuss mythology another time, yes? I am here to talk with you."

"Yeah. Riley mentioned that you want me to help with an investigation or something." And was very ambiguous about it. Needless to say, Touya is wary.

"Mm, yes. It is very important, this investigation. But very long. I cannot guarantee that you can help immediately, so..." Looker drums his fingers against the tabletop. "The IP would like to formally extend an invitation to you."

"What?" That doesn't make sense. Asking an amnesiac kid to help with an investigation is odd enough. Asking an amnesiac kid to join the IP is absolutely bizarre. Alarm bells are ringing here. "Why?"

Looker's mouth twitches. "I cannot say."

Yeah. That's not suspicious _at all_. "Is it some classified thing? Because I'm not going to be part of some international cover-up."

"Oh, no, no. Nothing like that." Looker looks amused at the notion. "You are not a victim of any scandal, Touya."

Touya frowns. "Okay, but. You gotta realize how suspicious this is."

"I understand how you must be feeling about—"

Something bubbles in Touya's throat, soft at first but steadily louder. It takes him a moment to recognize it as _laughter,_ of all things, bitter and harsh and slightly manic.

"You know nothing about how I feel, okay?" Touya snaps harshly. He's still laughing a little, sardonic and slightly cruel. "Don't pretend like you know how I feel just get whatever it is you came here to get. I don't give a shit about whatever bureaucratic BS you came here to drop, but _do not pretend_ —"

"You were reading that book," Looker interrupts in slow, steady voice, "because you thought doing so might bring back a memory from your childhood—the place you grew up, a bedtime story, something of that nature."

Touya clamps his mouth shut, eyes widening.

"You are desperate for any scrap of nostalgia or recollection, because you have nothing," he goes on, in the same damningly neutral tone. And his face is a mask carved from impassive stone. "You are also angry that this happened to you, angry that people are treating you like a charity case and pitying you, because you do not like that you are afflicted with something worth pitying. You are confused and do not understand what has happened, and you apply that same wariness to everything because you feel that if you cannot trust your own mind, then you cannot trust anything else in this world. You are sad because the only things you retained seem insignificant, some feeling of duty that you will never be able to complete now that the pieces are missing, and that thing you retained will now be for naught."

Touya curls his hands into fists, blinking rapidly.

Looker gets to his feet and walks around the table, then takes the seat next to Touya, and there's a hint of something sad in his eyes just then that makes Touya's lungs give out. "But most of all, you are _scared_ , because you have nightmares every night that you can never wake up upon remembering. You are _scared_ because you think you will never find out who you are, who you were, and for the rest of the life you will always be asking that same question and never receiving an answer. You are _scared_ because you think that if you cannot find where you were from, you will never find an ending. You are _scared_ because you think that if you cannot find out who you were, you will never be anything any more than a husk of someone who no longer exists.

"But most of all—you scared because you are alone and you think no one can possibly understand how you feel. And that is where you are wrong."

Touya takes a shuddering breath that comes out in a sob.

.

.

.

Looker remembers:

May, who was kind enough to help him but whom he never saw again, and while he does lament never being able to repay her beyond a mere trinket, he knows it is probably best he remain a mere memory to her. She does not need the burden of the IP and their politics in her region.

Dawn, the girl who helped him in Sinnoh and reminds him very much of 414 in the fact that she is distant and proper and focuses very much on professionalism, and thus looked upon him with a sort of haughty disdain. Yet he still remembers the way she looked stunned, and even saddened, when he announced his mission was complete and that he was leaving Sinnoh.

Serena, the Hoenn-born Kalosian Champion who looked pretty but acted rather uncouth, who liked to tease him good-naturedly and had a bawdy laugh that filled the whole room. She called him infuriating on a regular, almost daily basis, but she wished him well and gave him a hug and insisted that he not be a stranger, do you understand, old man?

Emma, the girl on the street who called him "old" but looked up to him, a thousand study sessions slowly shaping their relationship and led to the shedding of tears when all was said and done. He thought her too attached to Xerosic, given how he treated her, but that was a trivial thing, and he gave her the Bureau in Lumiose to run in his name.

Sun, the boy from Alola who was quiet and gentle, but fierce in battle and in matters of family, who took the role of UB hunter to spare his twin sister, Champion of Alola, who would have only been another target. He was honest and just and warm, but there was a seriousness to him that aged him a little, and Looker couldn't help but be reminded a little of himself.

.

.

.

Looker remembers:

Touya, fierce and sarcastic and with a biting wit, still recovering from what he'd witnessed in Unova and yearning for a person who left. Who helped reluctantly and fought ferociously, who felt and thought deeply, who spoke bluntly, and rarely took things at face value. Who had a conviction and a passion so strong it had moved even a sleeping demigod, and who never hesitated when it really counted and utilized every opportunity.

.

.

.

Now:

Touya sobs into Looker's coat, broken and empty and terrified out of his mind.

.

.

.

"You could go back to Unova, yes, but I am in doubt of it doing you much good," Looker explains. They are still in the library, and Touya is drying his eyes. Back to business, back to protocol. It's horrible to force Touya into making a decision, but this whole situation is horrible, and a decision must be made, ultimately. "Whatever life was there for you will not be should you go back. It is near impossible to return to a place you no longer fit into."

"I get that." Touya's smile is small, but too fierce, sardonic. "It's better to let whoever is missing me move on. Better to let them think I'm dead in a ditch somewhere instead of amnesiac in a ditch somewhere."

"Exactly." It's painful to say, but there it is. "There is also the option of you settling down in another region, but I do not know how well that will work for you, in all honesty."

Touya hums. He is dealing with this in a way that is startling mature. Perhaps he just needed to exhaust himself, emotionally, and not keep it all bottled in. "Which leaves the IP."

Looker pauses. "...yes."

Here is his chance to give a warning. Maybe his only chance.

Touya's title from before—it was Hero of Truth.

"However, there is something about the IP you should know," Looker begins to explain, and Touya looks alarmed as at this. "People like you, like _us_ —there is a double standard. A shadow half. Joining the International Police may be the best choice, but it may not be the choice that is most good. Does this make sense?"

Touya hesitates for a moment. Then, quietly, "...does it help people, this 'investigation'?"

Looker remembers 414 getting snapped up by Glutton, by jaws meant for him. He remembers Croagunk dying because of his inexperience.

But he also remembers Serena and Dawn and Emma, remembers Sun and 000 and Riley. He remembers that people were saved, each and every time. They were oblivious, unknowing of the danger that lurked behind dimensional walls or in the vortex of timespace or in the Lumiose underground, but lives were saved.

"Yes," Looker says without hesitation. It's why, unlike 000, he can't just quit and walk away. He simply can't. "Sometimes you do not think it is worth it, but I have always believed it is."

Touya remains silence, considering. His brown eyes dark and uncertain but not quite so scared. "...I think I understand."

He accepts.

.

.

.

"Touya" is a remnant of a life that no longer exists. He decides to change his name—Blair Hilbert. It's a dumb name, he knows, but the guys in intelligence are very defensive about fake identities, so he ends up just going by his codename: Black.

He earns the agent title after three years of training, which is apparently rather unusual, if what Anabel said was to believed. The memory of Looker's warning is still fresh in Black's mind. He accepts, but he insists that he's not ready for any major missions, and requests to be put on filing duty.

He still gets a desk and an office, though. It's a perk too good to pass up.

When he enters his new office, he finds an unopened bottle of champagne on his desk, a sloppily-tied red bow on the neck, with a manila folder next to it marked "classified". There's a note taped to the bottle's neck, hidden by the bow. Black arches a brow—the handwriting is calligraphic, flowing and artsy and unmistakable.

 _I thought you might appreciate this._

 _Many congratulations._

 _—Looker_

On the back, it says:

 _I wish you the best of luck in your pursuits, Agent Black._

 _—100KR_

.

.

.

The file is of someone named "N Harmonia", an accomplice in an event that took place in Unova about nine years ago, arrested but never convicted due to the fact that several testimonies corroborated that the man was manipulated by the true perpetrator—his emotional abusive adoptive father, Ghetsis Harmonia (who was found after another event in Unova, succeeding the previous one by two years, and then given the death penalty). Black reads the file from back to front, though he can't quite determine what it is that makes him do it, why he finds this file to be so significant. Maybe it's the fact that it took place in Unova, where Black is supposedly from. Maybe it's the fact that it involves Unova mythology coming to life, a white dragon and a black dragon clashing, ying and yang. Or, maybe it's because one testimony really strikes him—it's one of the handful that were taken before the second event, and apparently the last of the three that are eye-witness accounts of the "climactic battle" that occurred at the League. Apparently, this witness was a _participant_ in the event.

Black can't determine who that person is, though. With startling consistency, that one name is repeatedly blacked out and redacted in every part of the file that mentions them. Summery of the event, testimony, everything. The transcriber's note says that this is because the witness wished to remain anonymous, which Black can honestly understand. If it was him, in that position, he'd have been the same way, not wanting all that unnecessary attention.

But why is the file here, anyway?

.

.

.

Black comes into Looker's office with a glint in his eye that demands they talk. It's not long after Looker's returned from another mission, and he's still jet-lagged, but he's willing to listen to what Black has to say.

"You knew me before, didn't you?" Black demands before Looker can say anything, without even a greeting.

Looker eases into his chair with a stiff sigh. It's less or a question, more of a statement. Even without the Wormhole aura, Black is a clever one, and he'll make a damn good agent—that's how Looker sees it, anyway. The conviction in Black's eyes is enough to let Looker know that denying it won't work.

So he just doesn't deny it. "What gave it away?"

Black snorts and drops a file on Looker's desk, splaying his fingers across the folder. His eyes are dark and dancing and serious. "Why did you give me this, Looker? What are you trying to tell me?"

Looker takes a pen and gently poked Black's pointer finger to the side. The file reads "Harmonia" and that makes Looker frown. "Where did you get this?"

Black blinks. "You... didn't give me this?"

"No." That would have been a direct violation of protocol. "I left you a bottle of champagne, and I couldn't bring it to you in person because I was out on a mission. But I did not leave you this."

"Then who—" Black stops, then sighs. "Is Riley on-site?"

"No." But Marley is—and she's one of Riley's freelancer friends. They're their own little family, those five. They look out for each other, and while Riley is the only one in the know about the UBs and Fallers, the others have sensed and picked up his distrust of the bureaucratic inner workings. As a result, they tend to generally distrust most agents and don't always follow protocol to the letter, and sometimes take things into their own hands. Mira, for example, likes to hack discretely, and Marley is famous for "misplacing" files, which eventually show up right back where they belong a few days later, as though nothing ever happened. Thankfully, only a handful of more lenient agents like Looker are aware of their transgressions. Perhaps one of the crew did some digging and decided to drop a hint.

Black's jaw twitches. "...huh."

Looker cups his chin in his hand. "Might I ask a question, agent?"

"Um. Sure?"

"Are you still searching for that person?" Looker asks quietly. "The one you were looking for back then?"

Black winces and then looks down guiltily. "...not as a priority—"

"It is not an accusation, agent. It was merely a curiosity." Looker pauses and sits up a little straighter in his seat. "And I hope you find them."

Black eyes him for a moment, then, "Do you know who it is?"

Looker can only shake his head. "I am afraid not. When I met you, you were not quite so inclined to discuss more personal matters with me."

Black snorts. "Well, thanks anyway. Hey—did you hear that my new partner knows you?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah. An ex-Champion. Her codename is 'Winter', but her real name is Dawn Everette." Black gives Looker a meaningful look.

The older agent chuckles, recalling the way Dawn eyed him with unmitigated disdain when he first introduced herself and the grim look of determination she'd worn when they'd infiltrated Galactic's base together. "Oh, I know her all right. Don't worry—you'll get along just fine."

.

.

.

Another three years later, and Black ends up on a mission in Unova, despite his protests at being put on the case. But Winter accepted, and she's a bit domineering and she likes to make the call on which cases they take, and this is a pretty big case—human and Pokémon trafficking—so Black's agreed to it, if only because he knows how much she wants to take on an important case like this.

They split up—Winter takes the west, Black takes the east. He cooperates with law enforcement while Winter goes solo, and she has the luxury of doing that because she has a full team of six, while all Black has is an old, blue-furred Sylveon named Gizmo who apparently belonged to a former agent and a rather moody Luxio he's named Danica, who is an absolute _beast_ in the field. Anyway, Black works with the police, and he's not always the best at playing with others but teamwork does have its perks, he will admit. He ends up finished with his end much faster than her.

He's sitting on the patio of a café in Castelia, enjoying the shade of an umbrella strapped to the table, when he gets a call and picks up. "It's about time you called."

"How's it going?" Winter asks. Her voice is deceptively soft, like snow, and does well to conceal the harshness she has about her. But he likes the fact that she doesn't mince words and try to beat around the bush. It's a refreshing honesty in a world of bureaucratic BS. "Did you get anything useful?"

"Better than that—I busted a bunch of guys, caught them in the act." Black leans back in his seat, satisfied. "One of the higher-up guys, too. Police are questioning him now."

"And you didn't tell me?"

Black frowns. "You're the one who always says not to interrupt you when you're 'in the zone'."

"...fair enough," she concedes. "Where are you now?"

"Getting Gizmo and Danica some biscuits for a job well done." Danica is currently curled up lazily at his feet, a yawn revealing teeth and a blushing pink tongue, while the former has wrapped itself around Black's shoulders like a scarf. Absently, Black gives Gizmo a scratch behind the ears. "And I'm getting coffee because it's been a long night and I'm _exhausted."_

Winter lets out a mock-derisive snort. "God, I hate you."

Black smirks. "That's not true and you know it."

"Yes it is!" she snaps back, though it's mostly empty banter between partners and they both know it. There's an inflection of humor in her voice. "Do you know what it's like to work with someone who constantly jumps the gun?"

He snorts good-naturedly. "I do _not_ jump the—"

"...Touya?"

Black stops. Blinking, he glances at his left—there's a stranger there standing beyond the iron-wrought fence that encloses the patio. Because the table Black is sitting as next to is in close proximity to said fence, the stranger is really close. "What?" Black asks, while at the same time thinking, _how the hell does this guy know my old name?_

"That is... you, isn't it?" The stranger has minty hair, and lots of it. He's tall, so Black has to look up at him, and he looks vaguely familiar, though Black can't figure out for the life of him why. "I almost didn't recognize you."

Um. Okay. This is worrying. Danica lifts her head and sniffs at the stranger through the bars of the gate, her pink nose twitching. Gizmo growls and nuzzles his snout deeper into Black's collar, flattening his ears to block out the noise made by the city. Black just stares for a moment while Winter continues to talk in his ear.

"Uh, hold on a sec," Black says to her. He turns to the stranger and paints on a smile of forced politeness. "Sorry, I think you have me mistaken for someone else."

"But—"

"I just—I don't know you. I'm sorry." Black tries to smile, and pretend like he isn't missing an opportunity to pursue his past, because he decided a long time ago that he was done chasing the past. He decided long ago that it was just selfish to do so, that it would just cause unnecessary pain to any loved ones out there. Besides, what would it accomplish? It won't fix his amnesia anyway. There was just nothing that could be gained from it. So in the end, he decided to, just, stop.

Really, it's for the best.

The stranger eyes him for a second, then bows his head apologetically. "I see. My mistake, it seems."

"It's fine," Black says.

"Black?" comes Winter's voice over the line, sharp and insistent. "Black! Are you still there?"

Black brings the phone back to his ear. "Yeah, sorry, Winter. I'm still here."

"What happened? Where'd you go?"

"Uh." Black glances back over to the left. The stranger is gone, vanishing into the perpetual crowd. "Nothing that'll happen again. Sorry."

There's a pause on the other end, and then Winter asks, "Can I ask a personal question?"

"Sure." He knows she'll ask anyway, even if he says no.

"Are you... using this time to, um, to look for that mystery person?"

Black snorts. He regrets telling her about that, because she always seems to use it against him whenever things don't go her way. He'll give her one thing, she knows how to use every opportunity to advantage. "Not at the moment, no. And not while I'm on a mission."

Yes, he said he was going to give up on the past, but this is just one thing he can't let go. It's sad, how it needles him, this need to search for whoever it is that's missing, whoever it is that keeps Black awake at night, wondering, wondering. He doesn't think he'll ever be able to give the search up, even if he wanted to.

"Okay. Because I just.. I don't think it's going to end well. I'm sorry, but that's what I think." She doesn't need to say this. She's said it before, she's said it many times before. But she always says it again. "It's just too big a world, Black. Without any clear parameters, it's unlikely that you'll ever find them, whoever they are."

"Maybe." Black turns back to the crowd, and belatedly remembers why the stranger looks familiar—from the Harmonia file. Huh. What a coincidence. "But I'll know them when I see them."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 _Oh my god, this started as a headcannon with Faller!Touya and then this turned into a Looker backstory thing. I didn't even fully support the Faller!Looker theory until I got into this. (I mean, I still think it's definitely an intriguing concept and really adds some depth to his character)_

 _I wrote this for three days straight and it took me to some deep places, so I hope you enjoyed!_

 _That's all,_  
 _Luna_


End file.
